June 28, 2011

I'm so pleased; I just received ANOTHER fantastic reader submission! This time it's from Maddie who can't seem to ease off the gas pedal when a hot dude is involved:

Must. Appear. Busier.

As soon as I find a guy I’m interested in, the prospect of spending time with him immediately trumps all other potential social engagements. I become reluctant to schedule plans with any other friends too far in advance on the off-chance that he might text me at the last minute to hang out. I’m so afraid of missing out on a couple hours with him that I end up missing out on literally everything else.

Why do I do this? Has his ridiculously adorable face and awesome wardrobe caused temporary amnesia in the part of my brain that holds all of the dating clichés like, “absence makes the heart grow fonder” and, “never make yourself too available?” This is some bush league, amateur hour nonsense I’m pulling here. I should know better than to act like this!

When he actually does get around to texting me, I know I should make him sweat it out for a little bit wondering if I’ll respond. But for some reason, as soon as I see his name appear on my screen, I’m on my phone faster than Ke$ha's on a bathtub filled with glitter and Jack Daniels. In the words of R. Kelly, my mind is telling me no, but my body is telling me to text him back immediately.

The worst part is, I’m painting myself as an anti-social recluse whose calendar is about as full as an Econ101 lecture hall the Friday before Spring break which couldn't be further from the truth. Normally, I can’t even find enough time to return the movie I rented to the Redbox two blocks from my house or pick up my prescription from CVS, but for him, it seems, I’ll drop everything.

Slowing my roll is the toughest thing in the universe. Part of me wants to write his name on my calendar IN PEN on every day from now to eternity, but another part of me is like, "reel it in, woman. At least pretend that there are other people on this planet you want to give some facetime to so he's not tipped off to your freakazoid obsession with him." I hear ya, girl. It's the pits.